


we'll all float on (even if things get heavy)

by adverbialstarlight



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beach, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, M/M, because it's for the klance poetry exchange, double plot, loosely based off of a poem, or I tried anyway, uh in one of the plots anyway, which is why this ended up so fucking long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-07-20 14:30:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16139198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adverbialstarlight/pseuds/adverbialstarlight
Summary: Keith and Lance live contently on the beach, surviving mostly by their respective street performing acts. They've been dating for two years now and neither see it ending any time soon– until Keith does. Lance has been more distant lately and been disappearing when he'd usually come down to the boardwalk with Keith, and it seems that their arguments only seem to be getting worse every day. Is this just another rough patch of their relationship, or is it the end? Because now Keith isn't so sure.





	we'll all float on (even if things get heavy)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LordZarcock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordZarcock/gifts).



> ~~this was not supposed to be so long I planned for like 5k but anyway~~ this was written for Maya, aka @lordzarcock on tumblr for the Klance Poetry Exchange. Inspired by the amazing poem The Last Mile by Noah St. John. Hopefully it's been done justice here and I'm sorry I titled yet another fic after a pop punk song from my ipod (Float On by Modest Mouse). Anyway, enjoy!
> 
> ~~p.s. I'm also very extra because I made a[Spotify inspiration playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/unoriginallylg/playlist/6E3a90Rf60alMAJ3HXJaDm?si=HsRilL0UTr2Vwos7Gqxmgg) take it~~
> 
> p.s.s. and thank you so much to [Silva](https://silvia-moon.tumblr.com/) for putting up with my dumb grammar errors and betaing for me ~~and like everyone on the keith discord~~ so this isn't a complete wreck.

If Keith’s father knew that he’d dropped out of college and decided to become a gayer, less famous, beachside hobo-esque Bob Ross/seagull messiah who also happened to occasionally juggle bowling pins lit on fire, he would probably stare at his son in disappointment and barely controlled panic. Which is why it was a good thing that his father’s spirit was long gone into the next realm by now, because this bold, idiotic decision had happened two and a half years ago so it was too late to go back and undo it.

Now, at twenty years old Keith believed he was living his best life–sand permanently stuck in his ass crack and all. Sure he was pretty much another scruffy beachside hobo with callused feet and a mostly empty stomach but he also had no college obligations to stress over, an amazing boyfriend, and was able to freely paint and make his art whenever and however the fuck he wanted to.

Plus pulling out bowling pins and setting them on fire to juggle didn’t make bad money when that happened.

He was currently sitting in one of the soft grass medians lining the sidewalks that led through the touristy cluster of shops and restaurants and down to the boardwalk. In front of him was a plastic easel, propping up the piece of thick paper on which Keith was attempting to recreate the setting sun with his small palette of watercolors.

Keith’s usual entourage of curious and obnoxious seagulls were hovering nearby, as well as a few people watching him paint with slight interest, one young woman had even dropped a dollar into the empty abandoned bucket that Keith had been sitting on before he opted for the ground. It left him more vulnerable to the seagulls, but it was also much more comfortable so fuck if he had to smack one bird or two with a pin or canvas.

Plaxum was her name, she was an incredibly kind and intelligent young woman with hair dyed electric blue–something that Lance had never shut up about before he and Keith got together and had had an enormous crush on her. Plaxum and Keith had an amicable relationship, she was as frequent a visitor to this area as he was and Keith vaguely remembered her being in his biology class two years ago when he'd still been in college.

While Plaxum was out here doing ocean life studies for her degree, though, Keith simply sat around in perfect beach hobo style, drawing in his sketchbook, glaring at seagulls who got too close, and juggling. Their lives had gone down incredibly different paths since they met at the beginning of freshman year, but there was a mutual respect between them, something that came with a shared love of the beach.

Lance always enjoyed teasing Keith–jokingly, of course–but he was no better when it came to beachside activities, even when he also had a college degree to be working towards. He spent all his time out of class sitting around the boardwalk, serenading the people walking by–and Keith, when he was there–with enthusiastic and rather amusing Bob Marley song covers on his guitar and attempting stupid tricks on his skateboard.

But as much as Keith enjoyed watching his boyfriend do backflips off snow cone carts and interrupting whatever he was doing with his worst possible rendition of _Hey There Delilah_ or _Ocean Avenue_ , it was not a real job, something that Lance unfortunately should have, especially being a college student with textbooks and tuition and no family around to help pay for it.

He wondered if Lance would come today. The other boy used to come to the beach every moment of free time that he had, but these past few weeks he was off somewhere unknown to Keith–Lance somehow always evaded him, asking where he was between classes around three–and he was starting to miss Lance's presence. Past Keith, about two years ago when they first met, probably wouldn't have cared at all, but even with Plaxum and all their other friends who worked in the area Present Keith was feeling kind of lonely.

As if on cue, the sound of guitar strings rang out from behind him and Keith turned to see Lance strolling up the boardwalk, expertly plucking at the strings of his acoustic and grinning around whatever was being held in his mouth. As he drew closer Keith was able to identify the tune and rolled his eyes.

“ _Fins_? Really, Lance? What are you, sixty?” he scoffed, getting to his feet.

Lance looked into Keith’s eyes and finished the chorus melody without looking away before spitting the long plant reed into Keith’s crossed arms. It was tied into a heart, something that some of the creepier beach hobos liked to make in two seconds and charge tourists $10 for.

Mouth now free, Lance retorted, “Excuse me, Keith, Jimmy Buffett’s music is _fintastic_ , it’s for all ages. Anyway, _flower you today_ , darling?” He dropped the guitar neck and picked up the reed, presenting it to Keith again.

“Oh my god, why do I like you,” Keith said incredulously, taking the reed anyway. “This isn’t even a flower.”

Keith hid his smile in his hands as he covered his face with it and turned away.

Lance was embarrassingly cheesy and over the top sometimes, though it was even more embarrassing that Keith _enjoyed_ it. They started dating a few months after they met–something else that Past Keith would probably never believe–and Lance made an effort to be as trite as possible from that very first moment, going out of his way to do numerous ridiculous romantic gestures for his boyfriend, making it impossible not to feel his love. And Keith loved every single one of them. Not that he’d ever admit it aloud. He wasn’t sure what he was trying to hide, Lance already knew how much he loved him, but some prideful part of him felt like he couldn’t let his boyfriend know just how much he did.

“C’mon,” Lance said, “You know you love it. I am a master of words.”

Keith rolled his eyes again but still stood up and wrapped his arms around Lance’s neck, kissing him on the cheek affectionately. Behind him, Keith heard his small group of spectators shuffling away, not wanting to intrude on this private moment, especially when Lance’s arms wrapped around Keith’s waist and pulled him into a proper kiss that lasted much longer than a second. Neither of them minded.

A sudden jolt of thunder broke them apart, and Keith glanced out at the ocean then back at his boyfriend. “Walk?” he suggested.

Lance took his hand with a look that said, _are you seriously asking me this_ , and smiled in response.

Even before the two got together, they had fallen into a ritual of taking a walk on the beach right before a storm. More often than not they would aim to find large shells that washed up and sea life scrambling for safety before the wind got too intense. It was always freezing at these times, the winds impossibly strong, but there was also something calming about just walking slowly along the water with Lance, kicking seaweed and bantering lightly, that made it all worth it.

They started down to the water after Keith packed away his supplies into his large canvas bag and kicked it under a bush to retrieve later. The seagulls watched sharply as they walked by and Keith met their beady eyes with his own flat glare, ignoring when Lance noticed and snorted softly.

“So, how was your day?” Lance asked, lifting their joint hands when they walked through the barriers.

Keith shrugged. “The usual. Ran into Plax today, that ecology project sounds like hell.”

“Ugh, tell me about it. I can’t believe that Professor Luxia expects us to get it all done in a single month. I mean, what the hell? I don’t have time for that.” He rolled his eyes and stopped once they got past the sand that was mostly trash and dirt to take off his shoes.

One would think that spending the majority of the day on the beach, Keith would probably own flip flops or something easy to slip off as well, and yet he was in high top Converse and socks.

Lance snickered and let go of Keith’s hand so he could properly remove his footwear, navy blue flip flops dangling from his fingers. In return, Keith scrunched up his face and stuck out his tongue. Without hesitation, Lance returned the gesture and they spent the next few seconds rapidly repeating the action like chameleons.

It took Keith twenty more seconds to get his shoes off, having tied the knots tightly, and he fell back into the sand trying to remove one of his socks. When Lance paused his laughing to stretch out a hand to help him up, Keith pulled his wrist and the brunet collapsed in the tepid sand moments later, limbs impossibly entangled with Keith’s, wide grins on both of their faces.

Keith sighed and rolled over so he was on his side to face Lance, doing his best to ignore the sand creeping into his scalp and underwear. The other boy had already done the same. “I miss doing this,” Keith said softly, unsure if Lance heard or not.

“Yeah, me too.” Lance breathed, reaching over to push a strand of loose hair from Keith’s eyes. His dark eyes were full of unbridled love and adoration–love and adoration for Keith, something that he could hardly believe even after all this time–and Keith was sure that he was wearing the same stupid expression.

It was technically autumn so it had already rained numerous times this month, much to Keith’s dismay, but Lance hadn’t been around for the past few and so Keith had no choice but to return to their apartment alone whenever they rolled in. He hadn’t realized before how much he’d taken this little tradition for granted either until it came to this abrupt halt.

They lay there in silence and Keith began to wonder. If this was going to keep up, how long would it be until their next walk? What if this was their last storm walk until next month, or next year even? Lately, their daily evening walks had also come to a halt, Lance absent then as well. He wouldn’t text Keith or anything and just leave him waiting by himself until the sun was gone and the air became cold.

In their place came the–at one time rare–lighthouse walks.

Whenever there was something that they had to work out, when an argument got really bad, the couple took a walk down the shore that extended further than their storm and sunset walks, to a point where they could see the old lighthouse on the rocks. They’d move away from the tourists and runners and to the rockier area of the public beach and shout at each other until their shit was worked out. It usually began over something petty, like Lance forgetting to lock the door or Keith accidentally skipping breakfast and lunch, and everything would be fine by the time they looped back around. Recently though, the fights went on longer, their words more intense and the catalyst more serious.

Keith didn’t know what to think of it. Was this the end of them? He didn’t want it to be, it felt too soon, there was too much for them to do, there was still more love and happiness to come, but if this was the end for Lance? He would’ve said something by now, though. Right?

Keith didn’t want to think too much about it right now. Lance had come this evening, they were on a storm walk and happy, and that was all that mattered. There was no point to worry right now and everything would turn out alright.

Another boom of thunder rang out, followed by the squeaking of distraught seagulls, breaking Keith from his thoughts. Lance pushed himself up on his elbows. “Let’s get going before they decide to kick us out of here,” he said, “this looks like it’ll be a big one.”

Keith nodded, eying the nearly black clouds looming over them. From the boat port, he could hear the frantic shouting of men attempting to anchor in a boat that had just docked, fighting the wind to throw a tarp over it.

The two stood up, not bothering to brush off the sand that decided to stick to them. And then they were off again, steering close to the water so it could sweep over the soles of their feet, and all was well.

Until Keith, despite knowing exactly how this would end, asked, “Where’d you go off to today, anyway?”

Lance stiffened beside him, glancing at Keith before turning back down to watch the tide pull back. Keith narrowed his eyes when he said, “Nowhere. Just taking care of some stuff. Just… studying, y’know, the usual. Had to help Florona get the data for the lab she missed the other day. Nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah, alright, sure,” Keith said sarcastically, voice a bit sharper than intended but rightfully so.

Lance was overall a terrible liar, and Keith knew that he and Florona didn’t even have a class together this semester so what was Lance doing that he didn’t want Keith to know about?

They were independent people; Keith did not need to entirely depend on Lance and vice versa, they trusted each other and didn’t need to know the other’s whereabouts at all times. This was probably none of his business, and Keith should probably respect that, but there was something in the way that Lance was firmly brushing it aside and shifting nervously that made Keith wonder. Lance didn’t have to go this far to prove that he wasn’t doing anything of significance, he damn well knew Keith wouldn’t have had a second thought about it normally.

Maybe hanging out so much with Allura and Pidge was making their nosy paranoia rub off on him a bit, but there was something suspicious about the way that Lance acted whenever Keith brought it up. Some sort of defensiveness Keith had never seen him use before.

“Really, Keith. It isn’t important,” Lance said, tone equally sharp.

Keith met his eyes challengingly. “Really,” he said flatly, pulling back his hand to cross his arms across his chest.

“Yeah.”

“How come I don’t believe you then.”

“Keith, I don’t want to do this right now,” Lance sighed, voice more pleading now. He began to walk a bit faster, an excuse to break eye contact, but Keith kept up easily.

“Yeah, clearly,” Keith said tersely.

Lance pressed his lips together tightly. “What the hell is your problem?”

“What’s yours?” he retorted.

Lance narrowed his eyes. “Really, what the hell has been up with you lately?”

Keith scoffed. “Wow, you’re one to talk. You wanna know what my _problem_ is?” He turned, hands shaking as they balled into fists. “You’re never around anymore, that’s what! I wait for you at the boardwalk, you're not there. Between classes you don't bother to show up anymore. You're almost always out at night and get all jumpy and paranoid when I ask you about it.

“I know that you'd probably rather be doing other things and you've got a life, I’m not trying to keep you from living, but you just–it–it just fucking _hurts_ , okay?” He paused a moment before continuing, quieter but equally hard, “It takes like two seconds to text me so I don't make you dinner or sit and wait for you for three hours for no damn reason.

“If you don't want to talk about something or do something, don't make bullshit excuses just fucking say so. If you’re sick of me and don’t want to be around me anymore just say so. It shouldn’t be that hard.”

They had stopped now, much further down the beach than he'd thought. By now most of the people were behind them and there was no one to witness Keith’s outburst. It was a longer way than they usually went for a storm or sunset walk, and the lighthouse was beginning to come into clearer view, the glass glinting mockingly as he stared.

Keith was breathing heavily, jaw clenched so he wouldn't cry. He wouldn't cry, not here. He snuck a glance at Lance, who had stopped maybe a foot away from him, mouth agape and alarm in his eyes.

They were silent a moment, just staring at each other.

“You,” Lance finally bit out, shock morphing into irritation, “are such a goddamn drama queen, my god. Well I'm sorry that I wasn't there, have you ever considered that I wasn't just avoiding you and fucking around, that I was actually doing something important?” He threw his hands up, gesturing abstractly. “So what if I forget to tell you I'll be home two hours later than usual, that doesn't mean I don't love you, asshole. You know it'd be nice if you had a bit of trust in me for once.”

There was nothing kind in his voice, it was harsh and full of aggravation. At what, Keith couldn't be bothered to figure out. All he knew was that it was, in some way or another, at Keith. He couldn’t stand even being here with him.

It hurt more than Keith would care to admit.

But that tone sparked a new bout of anger in him, and so, ignoring the guilty look that immediately followed, Keith replied, “Funny. Well it'd be nice if _you_ trusted _me_ too. I don't understand you, Lance, you know damn well that I'd be fine with whatever you were doing but here you are being all cryptic and avoidant about it.”

He glared at the sand, kicking a shriveled up piece of kelp out of his way before turning back to face his boyfriend. “What do you have to hide so desperately from me, huh?” He let out a humorless laugh, not giving Lance time to reply. “Wait, actually, no. I don’t fucking care. I hope that it's fucking worth it, whatever the hell it is that you're doing.”

Another crack of thunder boomed over them and rain began to pour down, cutting off whatever Lance’s reply was. Immediately, they were both drenched. With it, the anger dissipated and Keith was left only with exhaustion.

It was the first time Lance had come down to see him in the evening in weeks, it should've been a nice evening, they should've still been out there dicking around in the water and being happy together. But instead they were here, screaming at each other for no reason other than Keith feeling the need to pick a fight. Here, at this specific time.

With a small smile, Lance grabbed Keith’s hand. “C’mon,” he said, “let’s get out of here before it gets too bad.”

He returned the smile, interlacing their fingers and have their hands a gentle tug. “Race you.”

For now, it was forgotten, something Keith wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or unsettled for. They were going to be alright for now, but he knew that this fight, which had already happened numerous times, would only continue until finally they were forced to fully address it. Keith didn’t want to think about what would happen when that day came, all he could do now was to hope that it wasn’t soon.

* * *

The first time that Keith and Lance had met, Keith was sitting in the sand, back against the deck of Shiro’s bar, doing a watercolor of a cartoonish looking cat on his expensive watercolor paper to celebrate liberation from–read: dropping out of–college. It was one of those touristy sports bars that sold mainly beer and buffalo wings, somewhere Keith never would have gone to voluntarily if not for it being owned by Shiro, one of Keith’s best friends, and a place that Pidge, Keith’s other best friend, frequented.

He had just finished the linework and was about to begin on coloring when a young brunet man with a small acoustic guitar came strolling up, stopping only a few feet away. He began to pick the strings of the guitar, a shit-eating grin on his face.

Pidge, who was sitting on one of the barstools behind Keith, snorted loudly, immediately picking up on the song as well. “Hey Keith,” she said, “listen, it’s your favorite.”

Keith looked up at her, eyes narrowed in suspicion. He did _not_ like the look she was giving him right now. His eyes went back to the musician, who looked eighteen at most, and they made eye contact before he opened his mouth to sing. The moment he began, Keith recognized the song and let out a groan, burying his face and hands in his lap.

_“Ocean man, take me by the hand, lead me to the land that you understand…”_

From behind the bar, Shiro chuckled quietly. Keith flipped him off, looking back down at his project. Maybe the guy would go away if he didn’t acknowledge him, though with Pidge and Shiro so clearly enjoying the show that probably wouldn’t be happening.

_If I make the fur entirely red, I can make the background a darker gray…_

Keith’s train of thought was abruptly cut off by the sound of guitar boy singing significantly louder and he looked up with a glower. The two locked gazes again and Guitar Boy smiled, seemingly immune to Keith’s surly expression as he continued on with his song.

It would have been fine usually–he was actually a very good singer and Keith could appreciate good music–but with the guy standing right in front of him, playing more elaborate than probably needed considering his audience was a grand total of three people when not including Keith, it was making it impossible to focus.

He could feel the boy’s eyes glancing over every few seconds, but Keith kept his eyes firmly trained on his paper. This guy thought he was all that, he was trying to show off and get Keith to notice him but he wouldn’t. His painting was more important than stupid, attention seeking boys on the boardwalk. No matter how talented and maybe a bit attractive they might be.

The song finished and Pidge and Shiro cheered loudly with wide grins. Allura, the only other person at the bar this time of day and a regular, looked up from her laptop in amusement. Keith was genuinely surprised that Shiro hadn’t kicked him out for loitering yet, considering how dangerously close to Keith’s water cup the musician's feet were as he stood on the deck.

He rolled his eyes as he watched from the corner of his eye as the boy bowed dramatically, preening under their praise. He played one last song quickly, like a rock star ending his sold out stadium show and pushed the neck down, swinging the guitar up across his torso, completely unperturbed when one of the tuning keys nearly poked his eye out. “I’m Lance, thanks for not calling the cops on me, I’ll be here for the rest of the time that you don’t!”

Lance grinned at Shiro, who actually smiled back. And then Lance picked up the guitar again, winking in Allura’s direction as he announced, “This song is called _Breaking Free_ from the cult classic movie High School Musical!”

And then he started playing some other song about the ocean that Keith had never heard before. Lance’s grin was almost manic, he was so smug about that, as if he had just cracked the joke of the entire goddamn century.

Keith rolled his eyes again and looked away.

It went on like this for the next half hour or so, and Keith would never admit it but he was kind of enjoying the music. Lance had sat down on the deck near Keith a few songs ago–at the insistence of Shiro, whose mother hen suggestions were not to be disregarded–and they were subtly kicking sand at each other every few seconds.

Any time that he asked for requests, Pidge gladly offered up something that was bound to annoy Keith, either because it was a pop song from the early 2000s and reminded him of indoor roller skating rinks or because it was some sort of meme. Lance was much too happy to oblige to all of them, including trying to mimic the Mii music. That had lasted about fifty seconds before he gave up and threw the guitar–gently–into the sand near his feet and claimed that it was too hard.

As much as Keith was still trying to be irritated at Lance, it was getting more impossible by the minute. He seemed to be a really nice, cool guy, someone that Keith might have wanted to befriend if he weren’t hindering this painting’s progress so much. Sure, he was flirting with Allura excessively, between and in the middle of songs, and he was loud and definitely had the potential to be an extreme nuisance to Keith if he wanted, but there was the potential to tolerate him one day.

Lance finished the song he was playing with one last dramatic strum of A minor and stood up. “Thank you, thank you!” he said loudly with another bow. “Once again, my name is Lance and I’ll be here until–shit, what time even is it?”

Lance dropped the neck of his guitar and pulled his phone from one of the pockets of his khaki shorts. He blanched at whatever time it was and Keith scoffed in amusement.

“Oh no, oh shit, and I have class in two minutes.” He winced, shifting his weight and sliding the phone back in his pocket. “Well, this has been great folks but I’m afraid I’ve gotta–”

Dark gray streaks of paint water flew before him, completely drenching not only the paper Keith was currently painting on but also the entire stack of the same expensive paper sitting beside him.

Alright, potential to be tolerated _completely_ obliterated.

Keith’s head snapped up immediately, murder in his eyes. “ _What the actual fuck_ ,” he seethed. He couldn’t believe it. All of that paper, completely destroyed. Everything else underneath that blank paper destroyed. All in a second because of this cocky, klutzy dumbass who didn’t even have the decency to apologize.

Rather, Lance was standing there unmoving and mouth agape, staring at Keith’s ruined papers. “Huh, well shit,” he said at last.

It took all of Keith’s willpower not to punch him. And Shiro’s sharp warning cough from behind the counter.

“Really? That’s all you’ve got to say? You know how fucking _expensive_ that paper is? I’ve got no more of that, you know.”

This time Lance winced, scratching the back of his neck and looked down at the paper, then away. “I, uh, I’m really sorry, man. Really. Didn’t see you there, maybe it’s fixable? You know, happy accidents and shit?”

Keith blinked, incredulous. He slowly lifted the top paper, wanting to punch him again when part of the paper tore when he unstuck it from the others. Lance had managed to drench them so much that the goddamn paper had ripped. Keith could not _believe_ this. “What about this,” he held up the paper, looking pathetically like printer paper all shriveled and torn up, “looks _fixable_ to you?”

Lance shrugged weakly. “I dunno, you’re the artist here or whatever, aren’t you? You’ve even got the stupid hair like Bob Ross does.”

Keith closed his eyes, trying to keep his composure. This was not happening today. _Stay calm, count the cats, do not yell, do not hit, you are a responsible, capable adult._

Alright, so maybe Keith was overreacting just a _small_ bit, but he had very good reason to be. Lance should have watched where he was going instead of dancing around, kicking over water cups and–and Keith technically shouldn’t have placed his paint water there either.

He sighed and stood up, only taking his bag, paints, and water cup–it was useless to try to save the paper. All of that nice, incredibly expensive paper that he’d spent _months_ saving money and sacrificing meals for. All of it completely fucking gone after ten minutes.

“ _Nope_ ,” Keith said aloud, and with that, he walked away ignoring the apologies still being shouted after him. It seemed the universe did not want him to have this day.

* * *

The next few days, Lance began to make a bit more of an effort to come to the beach and to let Keith know when he wasn’t. He thought that things would work themselves out, now that the problem had been addressed and they would be moving to fix it and go back to a smoother place in their relationship.

As per usual, the universe had other plans.

It was too windy for sitting in his usual place today and so Keith let Shiro convince him to sit under the awning of the bar. At first he’d complained. There was something so much better about sitting on the beach instead of on a stool pretty much inside, stalkerish seagulls, sand in his underwear and all, but it was actually alright. Today it smelled of chicken wings and Allura was also present, MacBook out and Photoshop open.

It made for the perfect working atmosphere, and Keith should have been finishing one of the many paintings that were still just works in progress but instead he was letting Allura try to convince him to learn to ride a unicycle.

“Keith, just think about it! You want a more intriguing act for tourists, right? Juggling on a unicycle would be perfect for that!” Allura grinned, her accent strengthening with her rapid enthusiasm.

Keith wasn’t sure how this conversation even came to be. Usually Allura was _not_ like this, right now it was like Lance was speaking to him through her. It was kind of scaring him.

He rolled his eyes. “This is a beach of suburban families from the Midwest, not a circus. You think they’d _really_ want to see a guy riding around on a unicycle and attempting to juggle bowling pins lit on fire around _here_?”

Allura shrugged and said nothing, though it was clear she wasn’t letting this go any time soon.

“Where did this even come from? This isn’t exactly your usual area of input?” Keith looked at her in confusion. She usually said things more about colors for a painting or a gorgeous flower that she saw that he should draw. Shiro and Hunk were the ones who talked about juggling, and Lance and Pidge liked to suggest the stupid things.

Allura turned back to her laptop, swiping the mousepad because the screen had fallen asleep. “Lance sent me a video the other day. It inspired me.”

She meant it to be light hearted, and Keith really was an ass for killing that when he scoffed and said, “I miss when he texted me still too. And when I still saw him.”

Shiro stopped paused and looked up from the beer glass he was drying. He’d been silent the entire conversation so far. “Hey,” he said softly. “He’s just bit busy right now, cut him some slack. You two have made it this long haven’t you?”

Allura hummed in agreement, placing a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “I should not have brought it up but Shiro is right. Lance cares for you deeply Keith, he would never hurt you like that purposely. I know things haven’t been overly great lately, but I’m sure it’ll be alright soon enough.”

The two of them exchanged a look and Keith narrowed his eyes. “Alright guys, what is it? Don’t you dare tell me that it’s nothing, there’s something you aren’t telling me. What. Is it.”

Shiro smiled apologetically. “Just give it a few days, Keith.”

Keith sensed that the conversation was over and Allura and Shiro switched over to Allura’s obnoxiously vague new client.

“I mean really, if you want something that actually looks good you cannot just tell me _‘badass and pink’_! What even is that supposed to mean? Do you want aliens? Pastel colors? If Romelle does not reply within the next forty eight hours I’m sending her a satanic themed moodboard for this instead,” Allura exclaimed. Shiro chuckled.

Keith turned his stool to face the sidewalk. It was getting a bit more crowded now, it was noon and there were students and employees trickling in for their lunch breaks. Usually Lance was also a part of this crowd and Keith began to scan the crowd. He’d been getting better at coming or giving notice, and Keith hadn’t gotten any text so it was safe to assume that he’d come today.

He tuned out Allura and Shiro’s conversation and pulled out his sketchbook, not realizing that he’d began to sketch out a unicycle on fire. It was a bit of a struggle to keep the page from flying around in the wind but he managed to hold down the corner with his elbow. Keith wasn’t stupid enough to consider the unicycle suggestion–he didn’t have a job so there was no health care for when he cracked his skill open attempting–but he could still draw it.

The lunch wave passed. Keith’s phone remained silent. The sky began to transition into a violet and orange gradient. Allura went home and his phone was still dormant. Finally it got to a point where it was too cold and dark so Keith had no choice but to go home.

He sighed in frustration as he left, brushing off Shiro’s sympathetic wave.

So much for things turning out alright, they were back to ignoring and avoiding. Really he should have expected this. Things weren’t going to just go straight back to normal. They never finished that specific fight, they hadn’t tried to actually acknowledge and fix their problems yet. And so this cycle would keep repeating.

Keith was getting really sick of it.

Unsurprisingly, Lance was not there when he reached their apartment either. Keith didn’t bother to flick the lights on as he kicked off his shoes and headed straight towards their bedroom. He hadn’t realized how tired he was, but the minute Keith laid down he fell asleep, jacket only half off.

It was a few hours later when Lance finally walked into their apartment. He looked tired but smiled at Keith, who had woken up about thirty minutes earlier.

“Hey,” he greeted him, draping his jacket over the bedpost.

Keith said nothing. He kept his gaze entirely focused on the ceiling, face void of indication that he heard his boyfriend. Giving Lance the silent treatment was an incredibly juvenile and petty move, he knew, but Keith wasn’t sure what else to do at this point. Maybe it would give him a hint that there was something wrong, at the very least.

Lance walked around the bed and peered over Keith. “Hey,” he said again, “you good?” When Keith just frowned and turned away again, Lance sighed wearily. “Look, I’m sorry okay, but let’s not do this right now. I meant to text you, I swear, but my phone died, and I’m almost done with– it’ll be done soon and I won’t be busy all the time and–"

“Yeah, okay,” Keith interrupted monotonously, rolling over so he was facing away from him. “I definitely believe that. Nice to hear you’re clearing some of your busy schedule for me, how thoughtful.”

Lance was silent at first but then he stalked around the bed so he stood in front of Keith. “Alright, fine, so we’re doing it this way, then? Wow, real mature of you sweetheart. Can’t say I’m surprised though, we both know how well you do actually _talking to people._ Imagine the world if you could.”

Lance was trying to provoke a reaction from him, Keith knew, and as much as he would have loved to scream all his anger and frustration in his boyfriend’s face, Keith only shrugged, glaring apathetically.

This seemed to irritate Lance more, he threw up his hands in exasperation and stepped closer. “God, would you just look at me and listen instead of being difficult and bratty? Jesus fucking Christ I don’t know what the hell you think has been happening but is that really an excuse to be a dick right now? I’m sorry and I’m trying to do better and hey, I got a fucking job just like you’ve always been telling me to, so why are you bitching? This is _so_ fucking stupid, why can’t you just– just– ugh you’re such a–"

“A what,” Keith cut in, glaring. “Tell me, say it, whatever the fuck it is. Or don’t because I don’t deserve to know shit. I’m incapable of being worthy enough to be given an answer to a simple fucking question. I know you love to bury things and hope that they’ll go away, but it’s complete bullshit so if you’re finally sick of me, then whatever. _Fine_. But if you want to dump me or whatever just do it already, stop being a dick then acting like everything is good again if you’re just going to ditch me in the end. If this is all some stupid, novel game to you then just dump me now, if that’s what you want so badly.”

He had not realized that he had started screaming towards the end, not until it was silent again except for the quiet ticking of the coo coo clock in the other room.

Lance was silent, his eyes wide and mouth agape, but no words came out. Keith laughed humorously, fingers clenching into fists. “Nothing? Yeah, I thought so.”

And with that, he spun on his heel and made his way back up to the sidewalk, entirely sure that Lance would not follow.

The storm clouds and biting wind followed in his wake and Lance remained rooted in place, staring after Keith. He couldn't find it in himself to care too much.

When Keith made it down the stairs and to the sidewalk, his anger subsided and all that was left was weariness and guilt. What the hell was his problem? If Lance was avoiding being around Keith before, it had probably just increased by a tenfold. What if he’d taken it as a breakup?

As always, instead of civilian addressing the problem and trying to work something out to fix it, Keith had done the opposite and picked another fight, had stormed off before Lance could get in another word. He left before they could work it out, something that only happened once before.

Usually it took fifteen minutes to get to Shiro’s apartment– he lived further inland because the rent was cheaper, he had once explained to Keith– but tonight it only took maybe six. Keith was sure it was almost entirely because he’d been making a point to glower at every person that came within his line of vision on his way over. If his loud, stomping footsteps hadn't already been enough already to display what a shitty mood he was currently in, before.

When Shiro opened the door, he didn’t even have to say anything. He opened the door wider, clasping Keith on the shoulder with a sad, sympathetic smile as he walked past and straight towards the guest room.

Keith didn’t even have to turn around to know that Shiro was grabbing the spare blankets from the hall closet. Shiro had always been such a good friend to him, it wasn’t fair. Especially now, Keith did not deserve this hospitality, this kindness.

He collapsed onto the bed in exhaustion, not bothering to remove his jacket or shoes. All of his energy was drained.

A moment later he felt the start of warm tears trickling onto his temple, but Keith didn’t even bother to wipe them away when Shiro opened the door and dropped the pile of blankets beside him and a plastic cup of water. Their first major fight when Keith went and stayed at Shiro’s apartment, he’d broken the glass that Shiro gave him. Since then, he got one made of plastic instead.

Keith could feel Shiro hesitate at the doorway for a long minute, studying him in concern like he wanted to say something before finally stepping back out into the hallway.

When the door closed again, Keith remained still as he stared a hole into the ceiling, and his thoughts began to stray back to his conversation with Lance. Especially looking back at it now, there was no doubt in what an asshole he was, what a terrible boyfriend he was.

Lance deserved better than this. Keith should’ve been better than this.

 _You really fucked up,_ he scolded himself weakly.

This had to be fixable somehow. But if there was a way, he didn’t know it. Was it even fixable, though? Keith didn't know anymore.

After an hour or so, he felt himself begin to drift off. With little fight, Keith allowed to let sleep pull him in, off to a place where he and Lance were still happy, where he hadn’t fucked up and where his doubts were negligible and unlikely. A place that used to be here, but was now only in his dreams.

* * *

 

After that first day they met, Lance seemed to keep being able to find Keith. Whether he was sitting in the sand, or in the grass, or even outside the grill that Pidge's friend Hunk and his family owned, it would only be a matter of time before Keith would manage to run into Lance.

Not that he minded too much after the first few times.

Lance had started to try making conversation on the sixth day after realizing that they were falling into a bit of a routine, and even when Keith was a bit of an asshole at first– a bit was an understatement, he could hold a grudge longer than Nico DiAngelo when he wanted to and knew it– he had been persistent and soon enough seeing Lance became something that Keith looked forward to when he woke up in the small shitty room at the back of a motel that he had been– technically illegally– residing in for the past few months.

At first it was stupid things, like “What are you drawing?” or “Damn, you’re really talented man, something about this piece really just _draws_ me to it, y’know” and “Is that Naruto, oh my god, you’re drawing Naruto.”

Keith had not been drawing Naruto. What he was drawing looked nothing _like_ Naruto.

He’d been half tempted to smear Lance’s light blue, slightly translucent tank top with some impossible to wash charcoal that day. The fact that he’d even considered that particular sketch to be Naruto was appalling. In the end he convinced himself that would be a waste of materials but it didn’t make him _want_ to any less.

Usually Keith felt bad for him and took the awkward attempt to start conversation and it would turn into a small debate that turned into daring each other to do stupid shit like try to dig a crab out of the sand with a foot– something terrifying that Keith would not do _ever_ again– or walking all the way to Hunk’s grill for a neutral opinion from either him or Romelle, who was there as a summer job and liked to contribute to any and all conversations she overheard.

It was a nice routine, though there were also times that they lapsed into comfortable silence and just sat and enjoyed each other’s company silently. Keith would sit and draw or paint and Lance would sit next to him and pluck at random notes on his guitar, sometimes humming a melody with it or quietly sing– not in the way that he did in front of Shiro, Allura, and Pidge but in a softer, more modest tone that Keith had quickly grown to love.

“Alright, so would you rather eat cold, canned soup for the rest of your life or unsalted french fries,” Lance said one day in the middle of the silence, fingers not pausing on his fretboard as he spoke.

Keith looked up from his drawing and turned to better face Lance, angling the sketchbook so it was covered. They had been sitting in the grass back to back, leaning on each other to prop each other up, and with that privacy Keith had secretly been sketching Lance. He’d been spending a bit longer trying to get the dimple in Lance’s left cheek right than he’d care to admit. If Lance saw the drawing, how Keith drew him, Keith would try to summon the powers of Poseidon and create a small sinkhole to swallow him; there was absolutely no good way to explain why he was drawing him, and in so much detail.

“What kind of question is that?” he said, wrinkling his nose. Both sounded terrible and he didn’t want to think about either.

Lance elbowed him lightly. “Just answer the question, dude,” he said, hand moving down the neck of the guitar gracefully as he transitioned into a new chord.

Keith spent a long moment internally debating what his answer would be. Anything that was supposed to be warm served cold– pizza, dumplings, soup, whatever– was straight up blasphemous, but saltless french fries was also a circle of what Keith imagined Hell might be like. Neither were ideal, but if he had to choose one…

“Alright,” Lance cut into his musing, “you’re thinking _way_ too deeply about this. Just pick one. Cold soup. Flavorless fries. The choice is simple.” He elbowed him again.

“No it’s not. And I was _thinking_ , asshole,” Keith said, though his voice was a bit fond. He elbowed Lance back slightly harder and let out a sigh. “Fine. Flavorless fries. Why?”

Lance snorted. He was still leaning against Keith so he could feel the muscles of his back moving. “Ew, gross. I think I would take the soup any day. I mean, soup can just be drank and you can just pretend that it’s a smoothie or something while the fries–"

Keith turned again and scoffed,  flipping the sketchbook closed, careful for the picture to be covered before Lance saw it. “And you said that _I’m_ the one who put too much thought into this,” he said flatly.

“Whatever, that doesn’t matter.” His eyes landed on the sketchbook and he grinned. “So, whatcha drawing?” He made grabby hands for it but Keith rolled to the side easily, clutching it close to his chest.

“Yeah, no,” he said levely, despite the anxious quickening of his pulse. Keith didn’t even want to _think_ what Lance might think if he saw.

Lance pouted, looking like a toddler who had just been disappointed by the tooth fairy because his sibling had gotten a dollar and he only got twenty five cents. “Aw, c’mon Keith, why not?” he asked, though he sounded more curious than anything.

Keith shrugged nonchalantly.“You probably wouldn’t find any of it very interesting, just landscapes and whatever. Also the last time I showed you something I was drawing that wasn’t, you asked if I was drawing Naruto.”

“Show me anyway?”

“Why does it even matter?”

“ _Keith,_ let me be a good supportive friend who gives your stuff all the love and attention it deserves,” Lance whined, leaning back into his personal space. Keith stiffened. “I promise I won’t accuse you of drawing furries or anime fan art this time.”

Instead of replying, Keith stood up and put the sketchbook safely under one arm, pulling Lance up with the other. “C’mon,”” he said, changing the subject, “it’s going to get dark soon and the shaved ice cart is going to close in a few minutes.”

This took over Lance’s attention easily and he jumped up and became the one pulling Keith along instead, grinning widely. “Oh fuck yes,” he said, pulling them into a power walk.

Of all the small routines the two had begun to fall into, this one was Keith’s favorite. Whenever Lance was able to stay later– or was unwise and stayed anyway even with a mountain of homework steadily piling back in his apartment– they would get shaved ice and walk along the beach a little bit as the sun set.

Lance had once joked that it was something an old couple who retired to Florida would do, to which Keith had replied that they were in North Carolina.

They caught the poor guy running it– Sal, Keith recalled vaguely– two minutes before he was officially allowed to close down. They went through the usual routine of Lance quickly getting his cup of ice drenched in blue raspberry and grape syrup and Keith standing and being indecisive despite always getting the same thing in the end anyway– cherry and pineapple.

After a quick goodbye to Sal, who grumbled something incoherent back before pushing the cart away, the two boys set down their usual path down the beach. Keith watched Lance take a large bite out of his cup and grimaced, turning away when Lance grinned and revealed blue stained teeth.

It was an enigma how Lance tolerated that much syrup without feeling his teeth deteriorate with each bite– or how he managed to evade paying extra for all of it each time.

Lance laughed and swerved into Keith’s path. “What?” he said. Keith shrugged and pushed back, causing them to stumble a bit before deciding to just remain pressed close as they strolled through the shallow water and ate their shaved ice.

They continued on in comfortable silence for a few more minutes when Lance spoke up again. “Hey, so I never actually asked you this, but like, what do you even do– besides hang out and be a beach art hobo, I mean.”

Keith turned to him, head tilted. “What do you mean by that?”

Lance paused, trying to think of the best way to phrase it. Keith waited patiently. “Like, you’re always here,” Lance gestured with his spoon to the beach, “drawing and stuff. Almost like you don’t even leave. Don’t you have a job, or go to the university or something? Or are you a magical ocean spirit bound to this beach that I have to fall in love with in order for you to be freed?”

Keith shrugged, mouth quirking up in amusement. With an imagination like that, Lance ought to have been a creative writing major instead of humanities. “Basically.” He took a bite of his shaved ice, not bothering to use the spoon with there still being so much. “I kinda dropped out of the university a few months ago and getting a job is sort of hard when you aren’t qualified for shit and have no bank account. Sleep in a shitty extra room at the motel, just draw shit the rest of the day. Y’know.”

“So you’re a beach bum, then,” Lance said, a smile creeping into his voice.

“I… Shit, I guess I kind of am, aren’t I.” Keith stared at the sand and Lance leaned heavily into his shoulder, bursting into laughter.

His laughter was a nice sound, Keith noted. His smile was nice too, and the muted smell of his laundry detergent and citrus shampoo. He was also standing _very_ close right now, hand lightly touching Keith’s forearm and face almost nuzzled into his neck. It made his heart rate pick up and chest flutter a bit just thinking about it.

Keith had been noticing this sort of thing happening for about a month now, but had never fully acknowledged _why_ or what it meant. Not yet anyway. For now he let himself bask in the almost aching affection that had been growing these past few months, analysis free.

It took a moment for Keith to realize they’d stopped suddenly, and he almost tripped over his feet again. He was ready to grumble something about it but when he looked up the words caught in his throat.

Now Keith was not one for cliche rom-com moments, not in the slightest, but in that moment the universe slowed and all that remained in focus was him and Lance. Lance, who was turned and facing the still fading sun on the horizon, silhouetted in its amber glow.

The nervous, fluttering ache returned, and Keith felt like he had been struck.

He wanted to draw it, to capture this second of quintessential beauty and keep it in his mind for the rest of time, and– he wanted to kiss him. Badly.

And then Lance turned, his dark eyes full of the same ditzy fondness as they trained themselves onto Keith. He smiled a bit when Keith didn’t look away, and suddenly his pulse was drumming a quick, erratic rhythm in his ears.

They stood there for a long minute just staring at each other, everything else irrelevant and faded into the background. Lance’s hand rose from where it was pressed to his side and moved hesitantly to Keith’s face.

A particularly large, strong wave broke the trance and sand began to slide out from beneath their feet rapidly. Having had no time to brace for it before they stumbled and tried to regain their bearings before one of them ended up falling entirely flat on his face.

Lance yelped as he fell forward but Keith’s arms immediately shot out and steadied the other boy. Yet again they remained a second too long in the position before retracting their limbs simultaneously.

Keith looked down, and upon seeing the tips of their shorts entirely drenched in salt water, he laughed a bit as he brushed a strand of damp hair from his eyes. “We, uh, should probably move up a bit. Tide’s coming in,” he said quietly, glancing away.

“Yeah,” Lance said quickly. Keith could tell there was something else he wanted to say but didn't push it. There were some things that just couldn't be expressed right through words.

Evidently, the same thing must have crossed Lance's mind because then he was pulling gently but purposefully on Keith’s wrist, tossing the plastic cups of shaved ice further up into the sand and spinning him into a kiss.

Keith was taken aback and stood unmoving for a millisecond, his eyes wide, but before Lance could break away he wrapped his arms loosely around the other boy’s neck, pulling him into another kiss. He tilted his head slightly at the last moment before their noses accidentally collided.

It was with a bit more force than the first, but Lance didn’t seem to mind too much, in fact he seemed to like it because his hand left Keith’s wrist and tangled into his long, dark hair instead. There was a small smile on his smooth lips as they parted to deepen it.

More times than Keith cared to admit he’d imagine what it would be like to kiss Lance. It was even better than everything combined now that it was actually happening. He tasted like mint– real mint leaves from the mint plant that was in his dorm to validate his concern for the environment– and salt water, their noses kept bumping a few times and nearly fell into the water when the tide was pulling out again, but Keith wouldn’t have had it any other way.

The kiss was slow but eager, both still a bit shy as their mouths moved against each other and growing more confident with every second that ticked by. His hands shook as they toyed with the small strands of hair at the base of Lance’s neck but he didn’t seem to notice or mind.

There wasn’t too much heat behind it, just weeks of pent up admiration and fondness. He wanted to stay there forever, in the firm circle of Lance’s arms and kissing him softly, and it seemed that the universe was going to let him for a minute when another wave came crashing up, this time spraying their shirts as well.

Keith’s eyes snapped open. He was met with Lance’s own, much closer than he’d originally realized. There was surprise and slight amusement there.

A bit reluctantly they pulled away, still close enough that their noses grazed each other slightly. Lance grinned, tucking a lock of wild hair behind Keith’s ear. “Yeah, I think we _really_ should move now,” he whispered, chuckling a bit and looking down at the numerous dark spots of water in his white shirt. “Think the ocean’s trying to tell us it’s got a _no PDA allowed_ policy going on or something.”

Keith shrugged, his own shirt slightly drier because he’d been standing further up shore. “I mean that was kind of your fault,” he pointed out, jumping a bit when Lance’s hands dropped to where Keith’s still rested and took one, intertwining their fingers. His heart lurched again.

“Whatever, details,” Lance  brushed it off, leading them up the small dune before they got drenched by the ocean again. Somehow Lance’s shaved ice had survived its careless abuse and was sitting up in the sand as if it were a cupholder. Keith’s on the other hand had fallen over and the inside had been flooded with sand, all of the ice inside beyond claiming the five second rule and eating it.

Upon seeing Keith’s dour expression, Lance laughed and squeezed his hand. “Aw, don’t worry I’ll share,” he told him, tapping Keith on the nose before bending down to pick up the cup. “See, all good!”

“Yeah, yours is, you couldn't have been a bit more careful with mine though?” He tried to sound annoyed, but it must have come out more as a content sigh because Lance’s smile sharpened as he scooped up a spoonful of blue ice.

“And what if I told you this was all a part of my master plan to get you to try the wonder that is this amazing creation right here,” he said, holding out the spoon to Keith and raising one eyebrow dramatically. “C’mon, you know you want to.”

Eventually Lance got him to try the ice– though it was more of watery syrup by that point. Immediately Keith had spat out and back into the bowl. “How the hell do you eat that?” he’d asked incredulously, “it tastes like fucking _cough syrup_!”

This sent Lance into another fit of laughter. It lasted for maybe a solid two minutes before he shook his head and gave Keith another one of those _looks_ – like he’d take the moon, the stars, even a large robotic lion spaceship for him if asked.  And then it changed, his expression morphing entirely.

“Oh!” Lance exclaimed. “Holy shit, my mom’s gonna kill me. Sorry. Fuck. I should’ve done this like five minutes ago. Keith, my man, my bro-who-I’m-pretty-sure-might-kinda-sorta-like-me-but-I-don’t-really-know.” He took a breath before looking back into Keith’s eyes with determination. “Do you, ah, do you want to go out with me? Like, dinner or movie or whatever? You don’t have to, that’s fine and I probably should’ve asked if you even _liked_ me before I, y’know, kissed you and all and that was not the greatest move I’ll acknowledge, but–"

Keith stepped forward and touched his shoulder lightly. “Lance,” he interrupted. “Yes. You don’t have to apologize or any of that, I– I’d really like to. Uh, go out with you I mean.”

“Really?” Lance asked, genuinely surprised and staring at Keith like he’d just grown fangs and turned purple.

He scoffed, moving around the cup of shaved ice and pulling Lance in again. “Yeah.”

They remained on the beach until the tide kicked them away again.

* * *

 

The following day, Lance didn’t come down to the beach. He didn’t text Keith, who had waited until after dark out there, hoping to catch him there and apologize. He said nothing of it when Keith came back that night.

Keith slept on the couch that night with Kosmo, ignoring the cramps it put in his neck and the fact that when he woke up, Lance was already gone and hadn’t even made himself coffee that morning before leaving.

And so the following two days, Keith did not come either. He walked to the public library instead, ignoring the texts from Hunk and Pidge asking where he was because Lance was looking for him. It was petty, Keith knew he should go talk to Lance and work out whatever the hell was going on, but he couldn’t bring himself to be a responsible and mature person right now.

Today he was planning to do the same thing, though there was road construction happening on the roads that he was taking to the library and so Keith was forced to walk past the touristy restaurants by the boardwalk– something he wouldn’t have minded if those restaurants did not include the grill that Hunk’s family owned– the grill that Lance frequented almost as much as Shiro’s bar.

It was unlikely that he’d find Lance there today, he had class right about now, but Keith was still anxious about seeing Hunk or Romelle there. He didn’t know Romelle very well, but she was an employee at the grill and close friend of Hunk’s, which meant that she’d tell Hunk if she saw Keith, and then Hunk would scold Keith for his ridiculousness and then tell Lance. Keith wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted that right now.

He missed Lance, his adroit strumming of his acoustic guitar and his terrible jokes that would make a middle aged, white suburban father proud, all of it. But after what happened Keith wasn’t sure if he could look him in the eye. They both needed time. And then in a few more days, he could go and apologize, try to make things right between them again.

Really, things should not have gone so wrong. The argument was stupid and insignificant, really it was not as bad as some of the others that had been easily let go and it shouldn’t have ended the way it did. It should not have stopped Keith and Lance from even acknowledging each other’s presence for half a week. But it still did.

Luckily, when Keith passed the bar, the only outside worker was Sal, one of the older employees who Hunk wouldn’t have asked to rat on Keith. Still, his pace was quick and he lowered his eyes as he passed. There was no telling when Romelle or Hunk might glance out the window, and if Keith was _extremely_ unlucky today, Pidge might be there.

Of all his friends’ wrath, Pidge’s would be the worst. She didn’t show it as openly as Lance, Hunk, or even Shiro or Allura, but there was no doubting how much Pidge cared. She would probably walk right up to him and give a full reprimanding, no inhibitions. And it would be fully thought out and calm, logical and making all of the right points to make Keith feel like shit and want to immediately go find Lance and apologize. And maybe that was what he deserved.

When he made it a few more shops down, Keith finally relaxed a bit, too far now for them to recognize him immediately. But then a firm hand gripped his arm, and Keith was spun around to face an unamused Pidge and Allura. They wore matching looks of disappointment and sympathy and when Keith accidentally met Allura’s eye, the calmness in them made him look away even quicker.

“We’ve been wondering when you’d bother to come around again,” Pidge began, crossing her arms.

“I–” Keith began, but Allura cut him off with a dismissive wave.

“No, I don’t think so. We’ve already had a small chat with Lance but I think that you are in dire need for one as well.” When Keith said nothing, the hold on him loosened and the two women turned and started walking back in the direction he’d come from. “Let’s take a small walk, shall we?” Allura said, not looking back but voice daring Keith not to follow.

And so he did, head down like a reprimanded puppy dog but he didn’t care. He probably deserved to be paraded around the boardwalk with his shame.

They turned into the parking lot of the grill and Keith slowed. Hunk was by the window, eyeing him carefully before turning back to the vegetables that he was frying.

“Pidge? It’s only like four thirty, maybe it’s a bit too early for—” Keith began, trying to turn around.

Pidge elbowed him, “We don’t have all day, Keith,” she reminded him, pulling them towards the door with surprising force.

“Well you are under no obligation to be here so why are we rushing,” Keith shot back.

Allura stopped then and turned to him. “You’re absolutely right,” she said. They stepped inside and Keith was pulled towards a two person table in the back corner of the restaurant by the window.

In one chair sat Lance, looking disheveled and somber as he stared blankly down at the beach where a group of teenagers were playing volleyball. His breath caught in his chest. It had been days since they’d been in the same room together more than two minutes, since they’d even looked at each other and Keith was once again struck by how much he’d missed him these past few days.

“However,” Allura  said as they approached, “you two do. So work. Your shit. Out. Please, alright?”

Keith stared at her, alarmed. Allura was by no means a saint, but it was rare for her to actually swear. Lance looked up as well, equally surprised, and they shared a look of disbelief before remembering the current state of their relationship and turning away again. But it meant that Allura was serious, she and Pidge both were, and they meant serious business right now.

Pidge came up behind Allura and turned to Keith and Lance with narrowed eyes. “And neither of you should even _try_ to leave before you’re done. Food will be out in a minute, until then, talk.”

And with that, she spun on her heel and towards the kitchen with Allura on her heels, leaving Keith and Lance alone in an awkward silence. Still standing, Keith shifted awkwardly, eyes trained on the laminated wood table.

“Uh, hi?” he said quietly.

“Hey,” Lance replied. “Er, do you want to– to sit down?”

Keith paused a moment, staring at Lance’s outstretched hand before shrugging a bit and muttering,” Sure, I guess?”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

They sat in silence for a long moment, staring at their respective glasses of water before Lance finally said, “Wow, this is kinda worse than our first date was, isn’t it?”

Keith glanced up, grimacing a bit. He decided to indulge Lance and his attempt at humor and said, “Yeah. Kinda.”

This time the pause was less tense, and a smile threatened to make its way onto Keith’s face as he recalled that disastrous day. It had been a few days after Lance had first asked him out and destroyed Keith’s shaved ice cup. Though Keith had insisted that he would have been perfectly content to just go over to Lance’s apartment, order some Chinese takeout and criticize the orange chicken, Lance had paid it no heed and wanted to go all out. To win Keith’s favor or whatever he had said.

When he had come to pick Keith up from the shitty motel he lived in and almost walked into a guy wearing an extremely detailed rubber pickle suit that smelled like sweat and a middle toe crack– Lance’s words not Keith’s– it should have been a sign of what a trainwreck it was going to turn out being, but neither were big on taking intimations from the universe so Lance apologized to Pickle Man and only commented that weird people lived in there as they made their way down the stairs and away from the motel.

Ice cream had been spilled on shirts, seagull paparazzi hovered, noses were nearly broken with bowling pins, large amounts of paper wrapped butter had been consumed, and cliche rain kisses had been enacted. All in all, it had been a disaster, and yet somehow they had survived to a second date. And then a third. And a fourth. And a hundred more after that.

And yet that was nothing compared to the gaping hole between them now. How the hell had it end up like this?

“Uh, sorry, if you didn’t want to be here,” Lance said suddenly. “I get if you don’t. You can leave at any time. Or not, actually, I’m pretty sure Pidge is guarding the doors, so sorry. But I did get you chicken strips at least?”

Keith’s brows furrowed. Chicken strips. Before he could ask Lance for clarification, Hunk himself was walking over carrying a tray with a large burger and a basket of chicken strips. “Hope you two enjoy your food. Please leave a large tip to your server and best friend who has facilitated in helping you two keep you from breaking up over a petty misunderstanding and become a high school rom com. Have a nice evening and you’re welcome.”

Hunk’s voice was friendly as ever, but there was also a firmness that told them that he was just as serious as Allura and Pidge were and that he’d probably prohibit them from leaving any time soon. He topped off their water glasses and strode back to the kitchen, giving Lance one last meaningful look before letting the door swing shut behind him.

Keith’s head whirled over to Lance, who was staring down at the table shyly as he grabbed a french fry sitting underneath his barbecue pineapple burger. He shrugged. “You’ve always talked about how you can’t get a kids menu around here now that you can’t pass as a fifteen year old anymore so I might have gotten you a basket of chicken strips?” Lance looked away bashfully. “Chicken strips are the way to a man's heart and all. I, uh, hope that it was alright. Sorry if you wanted something else, like actual food or something. Hunk can get you a chicken sandwich or something instead.”

Immediately Keith shook his head. “No, I– it’s great, thank you.” They sat for another long moment before he dropped his eyes to the red plastic basket and gestured at it awkwardly. “Should we, uh, eat?”

“No, yeah, of course,” Lance replied quickly and picked up the burger. “And if you’ve got time, I uh, have something sort of planned for after? Unless you don’t want to. You are under no obligation, it’s probably stupid anyway, I just– yeah.”

“Uh, yeah sure I guess.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

Keith frowned, realizing his mistake. “We’re doing it again, fuck.” he said.

“Yep,” Lance replied, swirling a fry around his ketchup dish.

This time they actually did turn to their food and started to eat.

The chicken strips were incredible, though Keith was probably a bit biased considering the closest thing to them that Keith had had for the past few years was Shiro’s barbecue wings; while those were still incredibly good, though, nothing could compare to the marvel that was deep fried chicken strips.

He snuck a glance at Lance, who was holding his burger halfway up to his mouth, an odd look in his eyes. After a moment of hesitation he spoke. “Look, I should probably apologize,” Lance began, shifting in his seat. “I’ve been really shitty and I probably deserved all this but I really do want to be with you. I want this to last as long as the universe will allow it, this isn’t just some little fling to me. And it isn’t for you either. I think. I mean we wouldn’t have lasted two years if it were, right? What the hell happened between us?

“It was good, and now I have to get our friends to set us up on a shitty awkward date just so I can actually talk to you for the first time in days. I know I’ve been out a bit more lately, but I still don’t see what about it all is making you all… I don’t know. And civil discussion is probably best for this and whatever, ‘cause not much can get done when it just turns into screaming the first shit that comes to your mind.”

“Yeah, definitely,” Keith said, nodding. He scratched the back of his neck. “Speaking of, I’m sorry too. It was really, really fucking stupid and I probably should’ve said something instead of letting it turn into this shit show, but here we are now, still I guess. I completely trust you and respect you, and there was no reason to be so _paranoid_ and afraid. Old habits die hard I guess. It was just… you were being all elusive and my brain just decided to jump to conclusions and… I probably still need to work out some communication.”

Keith finished quickly, feeling embarrassed now that he’d put that out in front of Lance. It was a relief that he now knew, it was a step in the right direction, but it also heightened his anxiety. Vulnerability was never something that Keith was a fan of. For someone who so clearly expressed his emotions usually, it was incredibly unnerving when someone knew so much about him, his thoughts, his feelings, and there was barely anything of them. Maybe there wa a general idea– Lance was kind of guilty too, and willing to listen and make amends, but other than that it was a mystery. And now Keith had to wait to see how Lance would react, picking at his last chicken strip in a heavy silence.

Fortunately, it came quickly.

Lance took Keith’s hands into his own, squeezing them tightly and forcing Keith to look up at him. “Hey, it’s alright, really, I get it. I forget sometimes, you know? It’s like everything is perfect and I feel like it’s completely solid and infallible, but then I forget that…it might not be to you. We were just doing so well, I just– I thought we’d be able to handle it. But then I was a dumbass and decided not to tell you which was _really_ fucking stupid and god, I seriously fucked up, didn’t I? You really didn’t deserve this bullshit, I can’t believe I just…”

He shook his head, and the remorse in his eyes was like a bullet to Keith’s heart. He looked away when Lance looked up as well and shrugged.“No, I think we were both at fault,” he said with a frown. “I should’ve told you but it seemed so stupid and I didn’t want you to think that I didn’t trust you or anything. This all probably could’ve been avoided if I just _said something_ . And then it _did_ happen so I decided to just ignore you instead of trying to fix it.” Keith laughed bitterly and took a sip of his water. Most of the ice had melted now and slid easily into his mouth, but even that chill didn’t ease the dryness he felt in the back of his throat right now.

They sat in contemplative silence, staring out at the beach before finally Lance said, “Wow, Pidge really wasn’t kidding about that miscommunication thing, was she? We are _terrible._ ” He snorted, finally looking back at Keith and raising an amused eyebrow. It was such a normal Lance thing to do, and Keith felt a mixture of relief and surprise.

Maybe this was supposed to be the universe’s sign that they _weren’t_ done, if Lance could still look at him like that. EIther that or it was telling him that they would be better off as only friends. Keith might’ve been a bit biased, but he hoped that it was the first one.

A small smile pulled at his lips as well and Keith allowed him to look back up in his boyfriend’s eyes. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Alright enough of this, I love Hunk’s food but I wanna take you somewhere real quick,” Lance said, putting his napkin into the empty basket in front of him.. Then he paused, eyes wide as his head snapped back up to Keith. He quickly added, “I mean, if you want to. If you have the time. You’re under no obligation to say yes and you can go to the library or whatever but I uh–”

“Yeah, sure,” Keith cut in. “That’d be fine with me.” He offered Lance what he hoped was a reassuring smile and stood up.

Lance blinked in surprise. It was almost as if he’d expected Keith to decline. “Oh. Oh, okay. Cool.”

“Cool,” he replied immediately.

Lance realized it at the same time and sighed, pressing his face into his hand, but his voice was now lighter and almost playful. “Dammit, we’re doing it again let’s just go.”

“Yeah.”

As they exited the restaurant, not fully back to their normal relationship but still standing rather close to each other, Pidge nodded in approval and encouragement. The look received from Allura, though, was slightly less friendly. Keith moved a bit quicker as they passed her, Lance seemed to have a similar idea. They knew that it was out of concern for their relationship, but she was terrifying nonetheless.

Hunk met them at the door as if he’d been waiting and pushed a large covered basket into Lance’s hands. “You got this man,” he muttered seriously, then something Keith couldn’t hear into Lance’s ear.

Keith watched him flush a bit, giving Hunk a sharp look before dragging Keith the rest of the way out.

Lance led Keith down into the sand, gracefully kicking off his flip-flops without a pause in his determined stride and encouraging the other boy to do the same. They went into the closed wicker basket on his other arm, the lid opening only enough for the shoes to slide in and obscuring the rest of its contents from Keith’s view.

“C'mon, just down here a bit,” Lance said.

He grabbed Keith's hand and laced their fingers together, smiling a bit nervously at the silent question. Confused but curious, Keith nodded and let himself be gently pulled along, sliding his own shoes off with just a little less grace.

They started towards the shoreline onto their usual path. It was almost normal, the warm, humid air sticking to their skin and the sky a vibrant tangerine. But Lance looked fidgety, nervous even as he picked at a loose piece on the basket, and his incessant talking seemed a bit forced.

Keith knew that he shouldn’t start to make drastic assumptions, that it never turned out well, but there was still something bothering Lance, and during their dinner they had not really acknowledged what he’d been doing all this time, even though that’s what this entire mess was about in the first place.

Neither spoke as they continued down the beach. Keith let his mind wander off a bit, something that was proving to be a very terrible idea.

What was in the basket? Why were they here? _What if he actually_ is _breaking up with me_?

The thought brought a heavy, nauseating feeling to Keith’s stomach, and he tried his best not to frown as he snuck another look at Lance. It would make sense, he had set up a dinner so they could talk things out peacefully so he could civilly break up with Keith, so they wouldn’t be ending on bad terms. They had been together for nearly two years, after all, so it clearly would not be easy. Sure there had been many fights throughout their relationship, big ones and small ones, playful bickering and venomous, quiet whispers, but in the end they had always been worked out. But this one, it seemed, was beyond rectification. It was the one that finally broke them.

Keith turned away as they neared the lighthouse, towards the broad horizon and the setting sun, beginning to accept the theory in his mind as truth. Lance was about to break up with him. This was all an artifice, and the only reason he was being nice now was to soften the blow. There was plenty of evidence to back it up, what other reason would Lance have to take him here?

He suppressed a sigh. There was no point stewing in the negativity and what the near future would probably hold. So instead Keith tried to remember the good things. He remembered the time Lance took him to the part of the pier with all the tourist shops and bought a pocket knife with KEITH engraved in the wood. The first time that Lance had come to see Keith’s side juggling act at Summer Solstice and had screeched in terror when Keith lit the bowling pins on fire. All the times where Lance tried to have them do cliche couple things like have picnics in the grass mediums and ended up getting pooped on by a seagull instead. He remembered all of the terrible pop songs that Lance had tried to serenade him with, his perplexing love for stick butter and love for the ocean.

What would happen once Lance officially broke up with Keith? Who would be replacing Keith in their apartment as Lance’s roommate? Would they still be in the same friend group or would things be extremely uncomfortable, eventually making Keith pull away and go back to his quiet, lonely solitude? The weight on his chest pressed down heavier with each thought, but there was no way for it to stop.

“Hey,” Lance said softly, breaking Keith from his thoughts. He ran his thumb lightly over one of Keith’s knuckles and nodded his head at the small setup in the sand. “We’re uh, we’re here.”

They’d stopped a ways away from where the tourists and even most of the locals roamed, far from the hotels and still away from the private estates, The only sound was the occasional seagull and light crashing of the water in the tidepools a few feet from a small tarp.

Lance dropped the basket and pulled his guitar case from behind a larger rock, laughing nervously. “Wow, this would’ve been a complete fucking wreck if you decided to say no, you know, so thanks for not. I mean, you’re still allowed to go any time you want but this is sort of important so I kinda,” he made a vague, indecipherable hand gesture and dropped his eyes to the fretboard of his guitar, adjusting the tuning a bit. “Yeah.”

“Uh, yeah, of course,” Keith said, shifting awkwardly in the sand. He was slightly confused, why wouldn’t he have come here? Sure, he had been a bit pissed off at Lance these past few weeks and they had come scarily close to ending things– hell, for all Keith knew, they had already reached it– but in the end Keith loved him no less. He still trusted Lance entirely with everything, he’d still do anything for him, did Lance expect that to all just go away?

And he still didn’t know why they were here either. Was this how it was going to happen, was this how Lance would break up with him once and for all? It was a perfect place, a private and scenic backdrop for such a momentous event in their relationship. Keith didn’t want to go jumping to unrealistic conclusions–though technically, he already had–but right now it made the most sense.

They had taken their last walk up the beach just now, their last date at the grill. This would be the last place where they would be together, Keith and Lance, together as lovers. Lance wanted it to be memorable, the way that it would all play out. And what better place to do it than along this path along the shore, a place that held so many memories and so much sentiment.

It would be calm and nice and seemingly back to normal for a few minutes until finally, the bomb dropped and Lance would make it official. Keith just knew it. He braced himself and waited.

When Lance insisted, he sat down on the blanket, allowing himself to sit close as Lance began a song on his guitar. The tune was unfamiliar and Lance looked anxious as he played, eyes constantly flitting over to Keith and hands shaky as they moved across the frets. It was a stark contrast from the man’s usual laid back and cocky demeanor, especially when he played his guitar, and Keith tilted his head a bit. There was something that made this one different somehow.

Lance opened his mouth and began to sing, and Keith felt his jaw drop open slightly. The reason that he hadn’t heard it before was because it was not a preexisting one, Lance had written it for _Keith_ , he had written it and composed it and was now singing it to him.

Now Keith was not a sappy and sentimental person in the slightest, except he kind of was. Not that he would let anyone know that though. And this song, this goddamn song was reminding him _just_ how sappy and sentimental he was despite everything else about him that contradicted that. As he watched Lance play, eyes soft and eager to please, Keith felt like he was going to cry. It was something that happened rarely, but this seemed like an appropriate to do so. After all, it wasn’t everyday that his boyfriend took him to the beach to perform a song specially written for him.

_“_ _You were a fire, set my heart aflame_   
_From the moment we met I could see_   
_Something that I just couldn’t explain_   
_You pull me in like a siren at sea,_   
_Oh what have you done?_   
_This must be a sign_

_You have ruined me for the rest of time,_   
_There will never be another,_   
_And all I have for you is just a rhyme_   
_At the end of the day,_   
_You are all i can see_   
_Maybe I'm a fool_   
_And all this world will be is cruel_   
_Maybe this was all just a game_

_But no matter, my dear_   
_I will always think of you the same._

_What would it take just to make you mine?_   
_I’ve nothing but this guitar and a smile,_   
_In my pocket not a single dime._   
_All i want is you and no one else,_   
_Because my heart is yours,_   
_For more than just a little while._

_You have ruined me for the rest of time,_   
_There will never be another,_   
_And all I have for you is just a rhyme_   
_At the end of the day,_   
_You are all i can see_   
_Maybe I'm a fool_   
_And all this world will be is cruel_   
_Maybe this was all just a game_

_But no matter, my dear_   
_I will always think of you the same._

_Tell me here, darling are you with me?_   
_Cause in your smile is where i’ll find solace_   
_Look to the sky, you’re all that i see_   
_outshining the stars and the sun_   
_Forever til’ it’s done_

_Oh just say you’ll stay with me forever,_   
_Say you’re with me now even if things get tough._   
_I can’t promise you anything_   
_But listen to my melodies_   
_Are these words enough?_

_And maybe I'm a fool_   
_And all this world will be is cruel_   
_Maybe this was all just a game_

_But no matter, my dear_   
_I will always think of you the same.”_

The sound of the strings faded out and Lance’s eyes flickered up to Keith again before away again, and he ducked out of the guitar strap. Keith said nothing. He stared at his boyfriend in awe. He didn’t know what to say.

“Uh, so, happy two years?” Lance finally said, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “I hope that was alright. I know things haven’t been the best lately and you might not have wanted this but I just– I want you to know how much I love you. I don’t know what would have happened if I didn’t decide to put off an essay and go down to the boardwalk with my guitar. If I didn’t think that it would be a good idea to go and try to woo the cute guy sitting in the sand by that cool sports bar. The cute guy who I’d seen around campus God knows how many times but never got the nerve to talk to before but decided to take the chance that day. You could’ve been much happier, you might not have, I might’ve been better off if I didn’t, maybe not. But I don’t regret it. Not for one damn second. And I hope that you don’t either. I mean yeah, I completely wrecked your fancy ass art paper but it led us here so I’m willing to look back and remember what a dick you were.” He cracked a small grin and reached back into his guitar case. “And also, I uh, bought you some more of it. It’s a lame ass anniversary gift and _way_ too expensive, I had to save like three fucking months’ pay for ten damn pieces, but I hope that it’s okay. Love you.”

Keith didn’t even have time to process all of Lance’s words before a thick plastic wrapped stack was tossed at him and Lance looked away, blushing. True to Lance’s word, in Keith’s hands was a ten pack of the same watercolor paper he’d been given at the university before he dropped out, the same paper he’d been using on the day he and Lance met. He laughed a bit, shaking his head and smiled at Lance.

“Holy shit, this is– what the fuck. Lance, you did _not_ have to do this, I don’t–” he stuttered out, eyes wide. He’d been fantasizing for a while to somehow accumulate enough money to get more of this some day, and here Lance was, just coming in and dropping ten whole sheets of it in front of him. “Thank you,” he finally said. “I love you too.”

A pause, and then Keith paled. He smacked his forehead with the palm of his head. “ _Oh my god_ ,” he breathed out. “Oh my fucking god. I am such an idiot.” He pulled a confused Lance in and kissed him quickly before pulling back and sighing.” _God_ , I am so fucking sorry, I am so stupid.”

“Woah, woah, woah, Keith, hey, no, it’s okay. Babe, look at me, what’s wrong? What?” Lance said quickly, pulling Keith towards him in alarm. A moment later though he jumped back, leaving space between them but keeping his hands firmly on Keith’s shoulders. The touch was soft and comforting, and Keith couldn’t help but lean into it a bit. “Was that too much? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve–”

“No, no, no, you did nothing wrong I swear. You– you’re amazing, it wasn’t you. It was me. I can’t believe I– I fucking–” Keith began quickly, shaking his head. He looked up into Lance’s eyes. They were full of concern, concern for him, and despite the panic and guilt that was currently thrumming in every inch of his body, Keith’s chest fluttered a bit. Lance cared so much, he was worried about Keith, and Keith–

“I forgot that today was our anniversary,” he mumbled with a wince. “God, it was so _clear_ and I just…completely forgot that it was today. And I didn’t even finish your painting!”

Keith put his head in his hands and shook his head, embarrassed and contrite. “Sorry,” he whispered.

For months now he had been planning, had been waiting…and then he just _forgot_ . With everything happening, with Lance’s odd behavior and grumpiness, it had all gone to the back of his mind. And here Lance was, taking him here to this beautiful beach and giving out overpriced paper and a song. It was so _stupid_.

Keith’s internal reprimandation was interrupted by Lance’s sudden laugh. He was pulled into the other man and fingers curled into his hair. Keith looked up at Lance’s amused expression, brows furrowed.

“Oh– oh my god,” Lance wheezed. “You’re fucking adorable, you know that? I’m not mad, if that’s what you were thinking. Fuck exact dates, time is a societal construct. You’re here, that’s enough. If you’re here with me, if you don’t have some plan to break up with me now–which would suck by the way, at least wait until after the cookies, it took like eight times to get these right–then that’s enough. That’s all I’m asking for. And I dunno about you, but I’d like to keep this going for a while longer so you’ll have plenty of time to finish it. Don’t beat yourself up over this, okay?”

Lance’s smile was soft as he finished, hand coming up to rest lightly on Keith’s jaw. The pounding in his chest accelerated and all Keith could do was nod, a small smile of his own forming. “Okay,” he said finally, his smile turning to a smirk as Lance pulled back with a gasp.

“Keith, too soon!” he exclaimed. Keith laughed, throwing a small handful of sand at him.

“It’s been six fucking years you nerd,” he scoffed. He rolled his eyes affectionately at the incredulous look Lance gave him. Really, why did he even like this boy again?

“Not to me, Keith,” Lance said solemnly. “Not to me. I love you and all, but I will always love Augustus Waters more. Sorry dude.”

In a flat voice, Keith replied, “Tragic, what ever will I do? It wasn’t even that good of a book.”

Lance elbowed him, sending the two falling into the sand with a thump. “I know you loved it,” Lance breathed, face mere centimeters away from Keith’s own.

“Yeah, okay, whatever helps you sleep at night,” Keith said.

“Oh, that’d be you,” Lance replied without hesitation. Before Keith could even blush at the comment, Lance’s hands moved to his shoulders and brought him into a kiss.

Keith didn’t mind it, otherwise Lance might’ve badgered him more into admitting how much he had enjoyed the Fault In Our Stars. Because he did, but Keith would never tell Lance that considering how often he already made jabs at the other for it. He pulled his elbows up underneath him so he was sitting up slightly, leaning more into Lance. He would never get tired of this. No matter how much time passed, no matter what happened, who they would turn out to be. There was nothing else Keith wanted in the moment than to feel Lance’s soft lips against his own.

He’d never pictured that he could be so happy, so content and in love, and yet here he laid on this beach, entangled with the love of his life and grinning like a fool. It was surreal, and Keith was almost afraid to blink in case it might disappear in a second. But he also knew that Lance wasn’t going anywhere, not if he could help it. He would remain by his side as long as Keith wanted, as long as he needed, and he would do the same for Lance.

Love was a complicated thing; it came with so much stress and tears, so much anxiety and risk, but it also came with joy and light. It came with terrible puns followed by maniacal laughter and bad music, it came with loving glances and soft touches on knees. And in the end, it was all worth it. So incredibly worth it. Every fight and misunderstanding, every sharp word and slamming door. They simply had to endure it, and they _would_ endure it. Because in the end, that was what made it so beautiful. Every test, every scary moment, every chance of collapse, it’s what made it real.

Keith’s mother had always been a firm believer that every problem will have a good solution. Were there no problems, were they to completely lose the dynamic that their relationship had been built on, it would have all been thrown out of balance. There would be no temperance, and there would be nothing to make this moment sweet or special.

And so they would do the best they could.

For the first time in days, Keith believed that they would make it. He knew that they would.

* * *

Keith was terrified. He was also excited, obviously, but he was still absolutely terrified.

The door opened as he tried to pat down his hair down for what seemed like the sixteenth time in the past ten minutes. Usually Keith was not one to care much about his clothes, his hair, but today he was a nervous wreck and couldn’t help it. It was, trite as it sounded, a really big deal.

Hunk stepped in and ran over quickly, swatting Keith’s hand away from the mauve tie that Lance had jokingly bought for him to put over his usual t-shirt and boardshorts. “You look great, don’t worry about it man. And it’s not like this is the freaking royal wedding, there’s Lance’s family and like six other people, no one is expecting you to do the whole fancy thing. If you get through it all, just remember I also made you a cake.”

Keith smiled a bit and turned away from the mirror. “Hunk, you’d probably give us the cake even if we set the deck on fire before anything important happened, you know how Lance is.” They both laughed and Keith fully faced his friend, a look of sincere gratitude in his eyes. “But really, it does mean a lot to us. Thank you so much, I couldn’t ask for a better friend and groomsperson.”

“Aw, Keith, no you’re going to make me cry,” Hunk exclaimed, pulling him into a hug. Keith wrapped his arms around his waist, letting the tension release from his shoulders and replacing it with the support and enthusiasm from Hunk. “But really,” he said, pulling back a bit, “I am so honored to be a part of this and really, really happy for you guys. It’s not every day that two of your best friends get married on the outside porch of a random sports bar, you know.”

Before he could reply, the door opened again to reveal Shiro this time, who raised an eyebrow at Hunk. “I wouldn’t exactly say _random_ , I have the top rating on Yelp for buffalo wings and liquor, you know,” he said, voice light. “It’s time, though.”

Keith took a deep breath, nodding gratefully at Hunk as they walked out. He patted his pocket, fighting a small smile as they made their way through the empty restaurant.

His mother met him at the door, a small smile on her lips when she saw them. She looked immaculate in her army uniform, not a crease in sight and back perfectly straight. When Keith got close enough, she fixed the slightly crooked tie around his neck. “Your father would be so proud of you,” she murmured, pulling Keith into another hug. “As am I.”

There seemed to be a lot of hugging going on today–even Pidge had tackled him into one earlier that morning, something that never happened–but Keith didn’t mind too much.

He snorted a bit. “Actually, from what I remember he wanted me to go to college and become a doctor,” Keith pointed out. “That didn’t really happen.”

Krolia shook her head, placing her hands on his shoulders. “But you are happy, are you not?”

Without hesitation Keith nodded. He was happy, happier than he’d ever imagined he’d be. So, so much better. The universe had not been overly kind to him over the years, but it had somehow allowed him this.

When Keith had first decided that he was not interested in pursuing a college education, he’d expected to just live alone in solitude as he made his paintings on the beach, and yet here he was. Instead he got a great group of friends and a boyfriend of three years who he was about to marry. He had his mom at their wedding–even as informal and laid back as it was.

“Good,” his mom said, stepping back and linking their arms. “They’re expecting us now, I hope you’re ready.” Keith shrugged and she laughed again, looking out towards the ocean. “I remember the day that your father and I got married. The weather was horrendous, there was supposed to be a tornado dropping about three miles north of us and you could barely breathe in the dust but he insisted.” She shook her head, the sadness evident when she sighed. “We had to cram into the cellar right after the ceremony. I hit him with my shoe when we were in there but he said that it’d be a fun story to tell our kid one day. To tell you.”

They rounded the corner just as Krolia finished speaking, and she gave Keith’s hand a firm squeeze as they stepped up onto the deck.

From an outside view, it was a bit ridiculous looking. A local sports bar, the open sandy area by the back deck filled with beach chairs filled by maybe twenty people total. And on the deck itself, a short girl wearing green cat printed pajama pants and a ratty t-shirt for an old eighties cartoon about space robots stood in the center, flanked by two much taller men and a woman with long platinum hair. Two nervous young men and their mothers were on either side of the deck, one in a large t-shirt with the arms cut off messily and a shark hat and the other with an expensive tie over his own faded tee. The Bluetooth speaker sitting precariously on one of the roof shingles played something that sounded suspiciously like the Tokyo Ghoul opening song. Someone from the back hollered loudly, one of Lance’s cousins who was immediately smacked on the back of the head by a girl who looked around sixteen and shushed.

It was less of a wedding ceremony and more like some sort of cult ritual, though when Keith thought about it there was not really a difference. The four made their way to the center of the deck, where Pidge was currently thumbing through the book before finally tossing it onto the ground.

“You know, screw it. This is really stupid and no offense to the old white guys that wrote this but it is really terrible and the misogyny doesn't really work here, so dearly beloved we are gathered here for the legal binding of Keith and Lance.” A few people chuckled and she nodded. “Yeah, I know, I’m fucking hilarious, anyway let’s get this done so they can enjoy their tax benefits shall we? Alright cool. So, man and man, please say your vows.”

Keith chickled a bit as Pidge bowed and stepped back before fully turning his attention to Lance, who was pulling a small piece of folded up paper from his pocket. His hands were shaking, and when he met Keith’s eye he smiled a but. “Keith, the first time that I met you, you were sitting in the sand being a complete beach hippy. It was really lame, but also kinda cute if I’m being honest so I serenaded you with Ween and spilled your black paint water all over your shit. And then you got really pissed off at me. I think that you kicked sand into my eye, by the way.” More laughter came from the audience and Keith hid his own smile. “From that moment,” Lance continued, “I knew that you were a complete asshole and I would probably hate you. I mean that hair? Really, and you called _me_ a middle aged mom because I played you Jimmy Buffett once.

“But Keith, my amazing, lovely, lovely Keith, even with your _horrendous_ hair I love you. For whatever reason. I love you so, so much. If we were in a YA dystopian novel, I would never even _think_ to leave you for the new hot new guy that comes along in book two. We’re not always perfect, yeah, some real shit has happened, but no matter what we get through it. In the wise words of Modest Mouse, we float on.” Lance stepped forward and took Keith’s hands in his own. “Even when things get heavy.”

Keith scoffed. “Nerd,” he cut in quietly, ignoring the heat beginning to rise to his cheeks.

“Like your music is any less strange, sweetheart,” Lance replied smoothly. “ _Anyway_ , as I was saying, we always get through it. Whether I spill water on your art or you’re melodramatic and jump to the conclusion that I want to dump you after I get a job and actually go and do it, _just_ _like you were telling me to do_.” Keith looked away at this, glad that whole debacle was now in the past. “It has been an amazing stroke of luck to have been able to meet you and the universe has my eternal gratitude for that. I hope that it lets me be with you for a long time in the future as well.”

Everyone clapped and cooed at the couple and Hunk wiped a tear from his spot to the right of Pidge.

Lance bowed, grinning at the spectators and winked at Keith. “Have fun topping that, babe,” he said confidently.

Keith shrugged and pulled out his own vows, all written on the back of an index card that had been lying around their apartment when he’d remembered that he had to write something a few weeks ago.

Suddenly Lance gasped loudly, pointing accusingly at Keith and taking a step back. “No way, no fucking way,” he exclaimed, ignoring the look that his mother shot him. She had been allowing a few swears, he was a young college student after all, but now she looked ready to drag him inside and scrub his mouth out with the cheap lavender soap in the bathroom. “Keith, how could you? What the hell man, I’ve been looking for that for the past six weeks! I needed that for my final like five days ago!”

Brows furrowed in confusion, Keith flipped the card over. On the back was a crammed set of notes, the subject not able to be determined because of Lance’s frantic chicken scratch handwriting. Huh, Keith hadn’t realized that was there when he’d picked it up. He rolled his eyes. “You could’ve just written new notes, you know that right?” he said, raising an eyebrow and completely forgetting that they were standing before an audience and in the middle of getting married.

“ _No_ I could not, those were my–”

A loud cough from Pidge cut the beginning of their argument short, and she looked between them boredly. “Aright, we get it, you are very much in love and like to fight with each other. The charm has worn off and those were technically my notes that you copied, so let’s get on with this, can’t we? Keith, your vows.”

Keith flushed in embarrassment, gaze dropping to the panels of wood. “Whoops, uh yeah.” He flipped the card over again. “Uh, Lance. You are completely and utterly insufferable.” This got another laugh from the audience and Lance muttered “geez, thanks”, though he squeezed their hands lightly as he did so. “However, you are also one of the most talented, funny, and brilliant people I have ever met in my life. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you. Probably be sleeping under a bush somewhere.”

By now the card in Keith's hand was forgotten, what he'd written on there had been terrible anyway. There was no pre-scripted words that would do, even if they'd been written by Shakespeare himself. Instead their hands were clasped together tightly as if they were afraid to let go. Except Keith wasn't. He knew that Lance would never let him go, and he felt the same way. Even before they officially got married, Lance had signed himself up to be stuck with Keith forever.

They held each other’s gaze for a long moment, ignoring how the crowd behind them sighed. But Keith's focus was entirely on Lance, nothing else. Who knew that the two boys bickering on the beach all that time ago would one day become a quintessential story book romance?

“You may now exchange your rings,” Pidge said, wearing a wide grin of her own. This part had been all Lance’s idea, but their friend had been almost giddy about it as he was. Lance smiled a bit and broke apart their hands to reach into his pocket. Keith did the same.

The plastic crinkled loudly as Keith grabbed the ring out.

A startled laugh came from one of Lance's siblings when Keith opened his palm, revealing a blue gelatin ring with a gummy shark at the top. Lance had a matching one that was red, with a dolphin on it instead.

Keith tore through the wrapping easily, though Lance seemed to be having a bit more trouble with his. Rolling his eyes affectionately, Keith reached over and took the candy from his fiance's hand and tore it open for him.

“Uh, right, thanks,” Lance said, face flushing a bit. Keith only grinned and grabbed his free hand, slipping the gummy onto Lance's ring finger. Lance did the same for Keith, interlacing their fingers.

“I now pronounce you as,” Pidge began. She frowned then, pausing. “Well, you're not man and wife–which is kinda misogynistic anyway but whatever–so uh. You know fuck it, I pronounce you gay and married. Kiss the groom, I guess.”

Keith looked at Lance, who shrugged and bent down, ripping the gummy dolphin off Keith's ring with his teeth. Feeling a bit ridiculous, he followed, the ceremony complete. They were going all out on these weird cultish rituals.

As Lance stepped forward and pulled Keith into a deep kiss, there was polite applause–from both the invited guests and random people passing by, they were still in a public outdoor area, after all. Lance dipped Keith dramatically and pulled out the actual wedding bands, grinning against his new husband as he slid the rings on.

After a long moment they broke away. Lance grinned and turned to the audience. “Alright, that's all done and I love this man very much, now let us eat some of those really good looking buffalo wings!” he shouted, holding up his and Keith's joined hands like a referee declaring the winner of a boxing match.

Keith snorted but let himself get pulled off the deck and into the sand towards the tables of food.

Unfortunately, it took them another hour before they got to eat any of the buffalo wings, it turns out there were lots of relatives to talk to and even more pictures to be taken right after you got married, no matter how casual and low budget it was. Keith didn't mind too much, but he was getting a bit tired, so when they finally finished talking to Lance’s second cousin once removed or whatever, he sighed in relief.

They made a beeline for the cake, where Hunk had graciously saved them a large slice. Lance threw his arms around his best friend and looked at Keith. “I dunno babe, I think you've got to step it up cause I think I want to marry Hunk now instead. Did _you_ get me cake? No, you didn’t.”

“Alright, but I do help pay your rent and gave you a gummy shark,” Keith quipped, grabbing a fork and shoving a large chunk into his mouth. _Goddamn_ , this was a great cake. Though he hadn’t expected anything less from their friend. Hunk might’ve been grilling chicken and salmon most of the day, but the man was one hell of a baker as well. “No offense, but Hunk did not.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Damn, got me there I guess. Now give me some of that before you eat it all.” He made grabby hands at the cake and Keith easily stepped away, putting the cake out of his reach.

“Do you see how much fucking cake this is? I’m not going to eat it all, if anything you’d be trying to eat it all before I got any,” Keith said.

“Not true! But really, give it.”

They elbowed each other lightly, fighting for the fork before Lance finally gave up and lowered his face to the plate. Keith's eyes widened and he pulled the plate away from him incredulously. “Uh no, what do you think you're doing?”

In the end Keith just ended up feeding Lance bites of the cake with the fork and Lance scooped up pieces and put it in Keith's mouth. They were completely oblivious to the pictures that Allura snapped and the disgusted “You _do_ know how many fucking germs you've gotten on your hands today, don't you Lance?” from Pidge. Yes, they’d probably get sick within the week, but right now they could ignore it.

Everything was good. Better than he’d ever thought he had the capability of being. Keith was happy, really, really happy. And this time he wasn’t afraid of it. He was not afraid of loving, he was not afraid of what would come in the future, and for now he could live and enjoy the moment. Even when Lance forced him into the cha-cha slide later that night. No one could be perfect, Keith supposed.

**Author's Note:**

>  ~~Yeah, did I mention I suck at writing emotion and romance and music and really anything?~~  
>  I hoped that you enjoyed this incredibly stupid fic. It was originally actually going to be they play scrabble a lot but it was even more incredibly stupid so I said screw it let's make them beach bum street performers  
> fun fact the setting is based off the North Carolina outer banks because my parents met there and they jam to Jimmy Buffett ~~my dad also may or may not have juggled flaming bowling pins in college~~ but the beach bumminess and all that jazz is actually based off of Daytona Beach after I went to visit my grandparents and there was a dude on the side of the road with a sign saying "why lie I need a beer" and when we stopped at a red light the man in the truck in front of us deadass rolled down his window and gave the guy a can of beer. gods bless america.  
>  Anyway yeah thanks for reading, drop a kudos or comment or just click on it and I will cry have a nice day/night/whatever and bye  
> [My messy tumblr](adverbialstarlight.tumblr.com)  
> [the Spotify playlist again](https://open.spotify.com/user/unoriginallylg/playlist/6E3a90Rf60alMAJ3HXJaDm?si=HsRilL0UTr2Vwos7Gqxmgg)


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